


Old Habits

by vulpixelates



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Drunken Flirting, F/M, First Kiss, Kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2018-12-05
Packaged: 2019-09-12 06:43:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16868050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vulpixelates/pseuds/vulpixelates
Summary: I'm... really not sure how I started shipping these two, but it happened and now this exists and these two own my entire heart. Content warning for alcohol consumption, smooching, and a joking reference to sacrificing small children for street cred (spoiler: yes, it was Alistair).





	Old Habits

**Author's Note:**

> This scene _is not_ Ioren cheating. Though it hasn't been talked about in previous writing (because I've just never gotten around to it tbh), her and Cullen are in an open relationship.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re actually quite scary, Inquisitor?” Alistair said, taking another swig as she laughed. “Alright, maybe not right now – even though you could probably easily strike me down now with that bolt of lightning that should have hit me years ago. But out there, you’re scary. You make this ‘if you stand against me, you’ll die a painful death’ face. A  _lot_. It’s very disconcerting.”

Smirking, Ioren raised an eyebrow. It wasn’t the first time she’d heard it, though perhaps the first time she had heard it said so freely. “I’m meant to be somewhat intimidating as a figurehead, I suppose, but I’ve never seen myself that way.

"Are you serious? I bet you were born scary. You’re lucky. I had to stop a Blight to get there. And sacrifice a few small children.”

Her laughter melted into the cool night air as she leaned against the battlement, her back against the view of the courtyard but facing the mountains and the Grey Warden in front of her. “I’m sure someone found you scary before the whole ‘I helped stop the Blight’ thing. Maybe those children you mentioned?”

As Alistair chuckled, looking away for a moment to take in the view, she plucked his flask out of his hand and took a swig of her own, careful not to wince as the liquid burned her throat. Humans made the  _worst_  alcohol. Where had Alistair even gotten this? She’d have to replenish his stock with something from the Herald’s Rest.

The Warden let out a disappointed grunt at the theft and reached out to snatch it back, but Ioren was a step ahead and hid it behind her back, between her and the wall. In an attempt to respond to her change in tactic, Alistair clumsily overcorrected. Soon he was pressed up against her, the warmth of him pleasant in contrast to the coldness of the night (though he seemed unaware, she was certainly not), and reaching behind her back to retrieve the flask. Ioren managed to keep it out of his grasp.

“Oh, come on! Let a man have his vices,” he whined in a manner unbecoming of a man that was now the leader of one of the most dignified groups in Thedasian history.

Ioren laughed, a sound quite common around Alistair. This close, she could smell the alcohol on his breath, as well as a hint of fresh soap and spice on his skin. “Didn’t they ever teach you to share in the Wardens?”

“Yes, of course. I’m wonderful at sharing most things. But tonight, I think I deserve a chance to get happily drunk.” He paused for a moment, a hint of heat flashing in his gaze as he realized the position he’d managed to put them in. He didn’t move away. “Although, I uh… I suppose I could lend it to you. I guess we both deserve a chance for happily drunk tonight.”

Another smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth. She took another swig and then handed him the flask, looking up at him through her lashes. “We certainly do, my friend. We certainly do.”

“ _Friend_ , huh?” he said, a goofy grin slowly curving his lips. “I suppose I like the sound of that. Couldn’t hurt to get on the Inquisitor’s good side.”

“I’d say you already have. You’re quite charming, you know.”

With a snort, he said, “That’s not quite the word most would choose.”

“Well, it’s what I would choose.”

“Well, uh… You’re quite charming yourself. For someone so scary, of course,” he nearly purred, voice low. He had a way of speaking, emphasizing parts of words and drawing them out, which distracted Ioren from the slight awkwardness of them, especially with the way he was holding her gaze with his own.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

He glanced down from her eyes to her mouth, intently studying her mouth as she continued to smirk at him. For a moment, he looked as though he was thinking of closing the distance between their lips. But in the next second, he seemed to come back to himself, and stepped away, much to her dismay. “Um… Sorry, Inquisitor. Maybe I’m already happily drunk.”

“Hey, no need to get all serious on me,” she said, keeping her tone light. “Surely we’re on a first name basis by now. Am I mistaken?”

Alistair paused once more, then chuckled to himself. “Um, I suppose we would be, if I knew your first name, that is. Lavellan is a clan name, isn’t it?”

“Yes.” She held out her hand to imitate a first meeting. “My name is Ioren.”

Carefully, he took her hand, and shook it gently. “Ioren…” The way he said her name sent a shiver down her spine, in the best way. He didn’t release her hand, and now the eye contact was back.

Her breath was caught in her chest, heart thudding against her ribs. The tension between them was palpable, now even more so than it had already been for the last few months. Their situation was complicated—and she  _knew_  it was complicated, not only due to their positions—but it was increasingly hard to ignore how enticing the curves of his lips were when he made his foolish jokes. They had shared more fleeting glances and touches than she would admit, including one near-kiss in the Western Approach once Hawke had left their company. 

He made her laugh, and he was handsome, and it was utterly dangerous. She was a goner. 

Ioren found herself wondering idly if she’d developed a tendency toward former Templars when she wasn’t paying attention. And somehow, she always ended up on the battlements with them. What an interestingly self-destructive trait.

Her mother would certainly not be proud.  _Creators, don’t think about her right now._

“I… I don’t suppose…” Alistair began, but trailed off, his fingers gliding up her arm. “Forgive me, if I’m being too… Well—”

“Alistair,” she interrupted, placing a hand on his chest. Through the thin fabric of his tunic, she could feel his heart pounding.  _Not just me, then._

“Yes?” The word was more air than sound.

“Stop talking for once and kiss me.”

Eyebrows raised, he grinned and teased, “Is—that an order?”

Ioren nodded by way of a reply, and Alistair responded in turn by capturing her mouth with his, eager and insistent as he gave into the impatient longing that had no doubt been building in him as it had her. His hands found the pliant flesh of her hips, pulling her body against his, despite how close they already were. Responding immediately to his touch, her own hands sought the collar of his tunic to do the same. Heat spread through her, starting where they were joined and shooting tendrils out to swirl around her core. She’d been thinking about kissing him since they met. 

As he pulled away for a quick breath, she tugged at his lower lip with her teeth, earning a sharp hiss.

“Maker, you’re—” he began, but Ioren interrupted him, using the opportunity to tease at his mouth with her tongue, and he was distracted again.

Their dance was new and exciting as they sought out their rhythm. She found that he tasted sharp and sweet, like alcohol and honey and  _Alistair_. He used his tongue like he made his jokes, fleeting strokes meant to provoke a reaction. Wading through the fuzz of the drink, she was completely wrapped up in this – the tingling of his lips against hers, the tug of his fingers as they tangled in her hair, the small sounds coming from both of them.

When they finally parted, he nuzzled her nose with his before pulling away to smile at her, tongue flicking out to further wet his lips, but said nothing. With a contented sigh, Ioren caressed his smooth jawline with her thumb.

“Nothing funny to say?” she joked, sinking back down onto her heels. She hadn’t even noticed that she was standing on her tiptoes, stretching to close their height difference.

“Nope. Nothing,” he replied breathlessly. “Give me a moment, though. I’m sure I’ll think of something terribly clever.”


End file.
